


Help me up from the Ground

by TeamFranky



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: Emotional, F/F, Therapy, erica davisdon, franky doyle - Freeform, frerica - Freeform, otp, team franky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-16
Updated: 2014-08-16
Packaged: 2018-02-13 08:28:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2143932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeamFranky/pseuds/TeamFranky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-wentworth, Franky and Erica are together; Franky has to see a therapist as part of her parole, and has a panic attack after a session. Erica helps her and soothes her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Help me up from the Ground

Erica knew not to bother Franky too much after a therapy session.  
Franky had been forced to see a court-sanctioned therapist for an hour each week, as a condition of her parole. She also wasn’t permitted to drive for another six months, as her license had been suspended due to her incarceration.  
Because of this, Erica picked Franky up from the therapists’ office every week. Franky was always quiet on those car rides. It made Erica wonder what they discussed in there... it made Erica scared. The small amount that Erica did know about Franky’s childhood was from her files at Wentworth, and just that had kept Erica up at night.  
Erica hoped that therapy would be able to help. Franky had a huge amount of pent-up anger, that much had always been clear; but what was disturbing to think about, was how hurt and vulnerable Franky was underneath it all to make her that angry in the first place.  
Erica just wanted her girlfriend to be happy. To stop having these horrific nightmares. To stop wailing, begging various assailants to stop hurting her, in her sleep. To not have a fuse so short, it was the width of a cigarette-paper.  
Franky often avoided sleep, because hers was always so full of nightmares. She would stay up late reading her books, studying for her law degree, even cooking sometimes or writing recipes; but eventually, try as she might to keep them open, her eyes would fall shut like a door balanced on its latch, her book still open in her hands or laying on her chest. Erica often found her in bed beside her like this at 4 or 5am.   
The exhaustion wasn’t helping Franky to say the least.   
*  
It was a rainy, foggy day when Erica went to pick Franky up at the office this time.   
Erica was waiting in the car park, only it was five minutes later than the time Franky always appeared. ‘Must have been a longer session,’ she thought, ‘Franky must be pretty upset for them to have run over.’ Erica decided to go into the waiting room, so that when Franky came out she’d be able to hug her or kiss her if she needed it.   
Erica took a seat opposite a teenage boy with music blasting in his headphones. She looked at the unoccupied seats; they were a disgusting dark orange colour that clashed horribly with the lime-green floors. ‘No wonder Franky’s never happy after leaving this place,’ she thought.   
Twenty more minutes ticked by. Something must be wrong, Erica knew it. She approached the receptionist, “Hi. I’m waiting for my partner, Franky Doyle, her session should have finished half an hour ago?” she asked.  
“Oh, Miss Doyle’s session did finish half an hour ago, I saw her leave the building then. I’m afraid she’s gone.”  
Panic set into Erica’s mind. Where had Franky gone alone? Without even telling her?  
Erica rushed out of the glass doors. She stood in front of the building and looked around, searching for Franky. She couldn’t see her anywhere.  
As she was just about to swear under her breath, Erica heard a small, distant sound. She would run to that sound anywhere.  
It was the sound of one of Franky’s guttural, choked-out sobs.  
A sound that made Erica’s pulse slow, heart drop, palms sweat.   
She ran around the corner of the building, towards the sound.   
“Franky?!” she called out, her voice betraying her desperation.  
She ran as fast as she could, kicking up gravel behind her. She turned the corner, to the back of the building. Sure enough, there she saw Franky, collapsed on the floor.  
Erica ran to her girlfriend, Getting on the floor beside her, demanding “Franky! What happened?!” and lifting the brunettes face in her hands to see her face.  
Franky’s face was wet with tears and a cold sweat. She was gasping, struggling to control her breathing. Her shoulders were shaking. Erica noticed a splatter of vomit on the ground a little further along from here they were, and knew it could only have belonged to Franky.  
Erica pulled Franky into her chest, and stroked her hair until her breathing finally became regular.  
“Come on, let me take you home.” Erica said in a soft tone of voice.  
Franky nodded still not having said a word.  
*  
As they arrived back at their apartment, Franky took a shower while Erica made her a cup of tea and laid out some blankets for her on the couch, so that Franky would be able to get warm.  
Franky emerged from the bathroom in her robe, and sat with Erica on the couch. Erica wrapped a blanket around Franky’s shoulders, as she still appeared a little shaken-up and pale.   
Franky sipped her tea.  
Erica took Franky’s hand in hers, to try and steady her, and looked her straight in the eyes. “I love you.” She said, the concern coming through in her voice like heavy marker-pen through paper.  
“I love you too.” Franky replied sincerely, her voice so much gentler than usual, lacking its usual bite of anger or sarcasm. “She went too far today.” Franky began.  
“Your therapist?”  
“Yeah… she keeps reminding me of the past. Wants me to talk about things I don’t want to talk about. You know… about my mum.”  
“Yes…” Erica said, she knew about Franky’s mother, and the terrible things she’d done to her young daughter.  
“She made me go back. She wanted me to visualize it… to go through it all again. To be hurt again.” A single tear rolled down Franky’s cheek.  
“Did it scare you?” Erica asked tentatively, after a moment of silence.   
“I’ve never been so fucking scared. It was like being a little kid again. I couldn’t breathe. Thought I was gonna throw up… and then I did. She shouldn’t have done that to me. The old bitch.”  
“It… it might help Franky.”  
“Oh yeah it’s really fucking helping!” Franky bit back angrily.  
“Franky… sometimes you have to talk about these things. Or they’ll eat you alive.”  
“I’ve been doing fine without it so far! Looked out for myself, didn’t need anyone thinking they knew what was best for me… they always fucking get it wrong! Only out for themselves.”  
“Is that how you see me?” Erica probed, “as someone who doesn’t really care about you or want to keep you safe?”  
Franky thought for a moment. The truth was, she didn’t think that. She knew that Erica truly did care about her. That was what was so great about their relationship. Franky finally knew she could rely on someone to love her, to do right by her, to look out for her. With Erica, Franky felt safe for the first time in her life.  
“No.” she finally answered in a quiet voice.  
“Right. So maybe you should give this therapist a chance… maybe you need to learn to trust people again. What your mum did to you was wrong. You’ve had a lot of wrong done to you Franky. That’s exactly why you need to go to these sessions… to process that. To move past it. I know about the nightmares, Franky. You talk in your sleep, on the rare occasion that you actually do sleep.”  
Franky was so exhausted. She knew Erica was right, she just didn’t want to believe it. She fucking loathed therapy, hated being asked personal questions, couldn’t stand showing weakness. The whole experience made her skin crawl. But if she knew one thing, it was that she trusted Erica. She lay her head in Erica’s lap, and lay her legs on the couch, hugging her knees: the recovery position.   
Erica stroked Franky’s hair for an hour, as the younger woman slowly cried. After a while, Erica realised that Franky had fallen asleep. For the first time in months, a dreamless sleep, and at a time before 4am. Erica was relieved; maybe Franky would finally get a proper night’s sleep. God knows she needed one.   
Erica simply pulled two blankets over Franky’s steadily rising and falling shoulders, and eventually fell asleep herself, her head leant sideways on her own shoulder. She wasn’t about the get up from her seat on the couch, and risk waking Franky. She’d happily sacrifice her own comfort for what she saw as a small miracle.


End file.
